The Fool and the Musketeer
by SS Dispatch
Summary: Beginning with the death of Gaston, this story chronicles the journey LeFou must make through his grief and his pain, with his friend Stanley helping him along the way. [Stanfou!]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Originally featured in my listing called "The Final Chapter", this is one of the few one-shots that I have decided to extend into chapters. For those of you that originally read this before as a one-shot, take note that there will be many added scenes to make the story more continuous. Chapter 3 will be the start of the new material for those familiar with the story already.**

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LeFou put Mrs. Potts down, leaving her to continue in the battle. After such a betrayal by Gaston, LeFou wasn't sure what to do with himself in this strange battle. The villagers were still attacking the furniture, but he felt that he could no longer justifiably participate in such actions. He hadn't wanted to come here in the first place. He had only been blindly following along with Gaston, but clearly that had done him no good. In the midst of all the turmoil and chaos of the battle, LeFou walked straight out the front door. He had every intention to head straight home and forget this whole night had ever happened. But there was a chill in the air as he walked down the expanse of stairs. He had a sudden feeling that something terrible was going to happen.

The night was dim and cold in the perpetual winter. He stopped walking. It was eerily quiet. He waited cautiously for the proverbial pin to drop. The first noise came from the castle behind him: the doors had banged open. The villagers were running out of the castle, apparently having been successfully beaten by the furniture. The horde was coming in his direction. He quickly scampered down the last few stairs, hiding just behind them, out of the path of the crowd. The villagers stampeded past him. When the last of them had gone past, he slowly stepped away from the castle again. He made to head home again, but was stopped by a second sound, this one far more ominous: a gunshot.

LeFou spun around, looking back at the castle. He knew the shot had rang outside of the castle. His eyes darted all over the massive expanse before him, trying to locate the sound of the gunshot. He ran around the castle, his eyes still looking up. He heard some shouting as he got closer, but he couldn't make it out. He heard a woman scream, a gunshot, and a growl. He knew what had to be happening. His feet followed the sound of the clamor. And that was when his eyes managed to locate what his ears were hearing. There stood Gaston, far away from LeFou and high up on a bridge. He was holding a pistol in his hand. The Beast was hunched over not far away, kneeling in pain in front of Belle. "God, no." LeFou muttered to himself, bearing awful witness to the events. He watched Gaston fire another shot at the Beast. The Beast tumbled out of sight into the castle from the impact. He heard the sound of the bridge crumbling.

"No, no, no." LeFou said helplessly, knowing he could do nothing to change what was about to happen. He heard Gaston scream, saw him begin to fall as the bridge collapsed right below his feet. LeFou turned away and started to run, terrified that he was going to hear a dull thud — or worse, a wet splat. He ran harder than he'd ever run in his life. He whizzed out of the palace gate and straight toward Villeneuve. Gaston was dead. He knew that. He wasn't going to try and deny what he himself had witnessed. No man could survive a fall from that height, not even the stubborn Gaston. A whirlwind of emotion was blowing through his mind as briskly as the winter wind that was blowing right through him. As his feet crunched in the snow he cursed to himself, feeling the freezing temperatures pushing in on him. But as he continued forward the snow suddenly started to melt. The earth beneath his feet was suddenly growing grass and softening. "I've had just about enough of this magic!" He cried out loud, shocked by the sudden change in season.

He barrelled out of the woods and down the hill that lead home. He was almost out of breath at this point, though the air was no longer so cold it hurt his lungs. It was warm again, as it had been when they left Villeneuve. The sun was beginning to rise on the horizon. And despite all that had just occurred, LeFou's first thought at the sunrise was that he was going to have a hell of a time trying to catch up on sleep. He continued down into town, tears falling down his cheeks. He was unsure whether the tears were elicited by sadness, the freezing temperatures his eyes had just endured, or by the wind blowing against his face. He had no interest in knowing which it was. All he cared about at this point was getting home. _This has to be a dream_ , he told himself as he made his way into town and headed down the main street.

He turned down a narrow side street and found his way to his rented space. It was the attic of a kind old woman's house. Luckily for him, the large attic had it's own entrance. A rickety wooden staircase in the alley lead up to his front door. He pounded up the stairs, trying not to think about the one time that he had broken a stair and hurt his leg doing the very same thing. He survived his trip up the stairs this time though, and burst through the door of his home. It was no more than a square shaped room with barebones furniture. The only other entrance into the attic was a small door in the floor that could only be reached by ladder. There was never any concern about someone accidentally barging into his home. Which was exactly what he needed now. Uninterrupted privacy. He collapsed into the creaky wooden chair facing his small fireplace.

In the safety of his home, he finally let it go. The physical exertion of running all the way from the castle had kept the raw emotional pain at bay. But now that he was still again, it came rushing in like a hurricane. He screamed in terror, a delayed reaction to his shock at seeing Gaston fall. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands covered his face, trying to shut out the world physically. Regardless of how he had betrayed him just before his death, they had known each other their whole lives. They were friends. Unwanted memories filtered into his mind's eye, only deepening his sorrow.

 _Gaston was filling his gun with bullets. LeFou was cleaning the other soldiers' guns. It was late. The moon was high in the sky above them. The other soldiers were sleeping in tents all around them. But they were on nightwatch. Which was less of a watch and more of a chore. They were expected to keep themselves busy through the night. They preferred to work with the weapons, making sure they were all in tip top shape. Gaston always told LeFou that a good weapon could mean the difference between a defeat and a triumph. He hadn't been wrong yet._

" _LeFou, what's the first thing you're going to do when you return home?" Gaston asked quietly, his tone hushed to avoid waking their fellow soldiers._

" _I'm not sure." LeFou said honestly, wiping the dirty rag carefully across the gun he held, "I hadn't really thought about it. What are you going to do?"_

" _Provided we're not shipped off immediately," Gaston said with a smile, as if the thought of being sent to another war immediately after finishing another was far more exciting than it sounded, "You know … I'm not sure. I have nothing else to do aside from this war. I suppose I ought to marry now."_

 _LeFou shrugged, "Well, you don't have to if you don't want to. As men, it's fine if we don't marry. Nobody will think twice of it."_

" _That's true." Gaston said, considering it quietly._

" _After all, who needs a woman when you have us?" LeFou said with a small smile. "No wife could understand your ways like I do. All women know how to do is cook, clean, and cause problems. They can't drink with you, can't share war stories with you, or even go hunting with you. Where's the fun in that?"_

" _That's a fair point, LeFou." Gaston said, putting down the last filled pistol and putting an arm around LeFou's shoulders, "And a woman can run off. But you, LeFou?"_

" _I'll always be right here at your side." LeFou reminded him._

LeFou cringed at the rawness of the memory. It was as if it was yesterday, rather than years ago. But it had been that moment where he finally had admitted to himself that he was more than just Gaston's friend. They were inseparable when the war started. Thick as thieves. He had not known what to call how he felt about Gaston, but it dawned on him shortly after the war ended, when Gaston had begun to pursue Belle with a fresh vigor. It had hurt him. He recognized the emotion as jealousy. He didn't want Gaston paying all of his attention toward her.

Flickers of images assaulted his mind. Gaston's body falling to its demise. His grin whenever he shot an enemy down on the battlefield. His grim face as he'd left LeFou pinned under that piano in the battle. His stupid smirk when he was feeling especially full of himself, particularly when LeFou had cheered him up in the pub after being rejected again by Belle. And now he was dead. A man so full of life was now without one. How was that even possible?

A war brewed in LeFou's mind and heart, threatening to split him in half. Gaston had tried to kill the Beast, and what for? So he could marry Belle? LeFou had watched himself. The Beast had had his back turned to Gaston, he was not a threat. Yet Gaston shot him regardless. He shot him twice. He'd killed the Beast. LeFou was uncertain how he felt about the Beast. But he knew that he did not deserve to be shot and killed when he was presenting no threat. On top of that, Gaston had completely abandoned LeFou just before killing the Beast. He had left him for dead. LeFou had been lucky that the piano had been so shocked by the betrayal that he had let him go. For God's sake, Gaston had used LeFou as a literal human shield. Didn't this all make Gaston a bad person? A villain?

No, that was not the man LeFou had fallen in love with. LeFou shook his head in response to his own terrible questions, tears flowing like rivers down his cheeks. On a lower level of thought, his brain registered an itch on the back of his hand. He absentmindedly scratched at it. What if he had been blind all along? What if Gaston was actually this terrible — had always been this terrible? Had LeFou been seeing him through rose tinted glasses? A dull pain caught his brain's attention. He opened his eyes and glanced down at his left hand. It was bright red with inflammation, small dots of blood appearing on the skin. The pain became a little stronger as he paid more attention to it. How had he managed to do that? He sighed in defeat. His mind was out of control. He couldn't take it anymore. He needed to make the thoughts stop, but he wasn't sure how. He got up and walked across the room and laid in his bed, not even taking off his shoes. He tried to sleep, hoping this would briefly suspend the thoughts. He spent an hour thrashing in restlessness before his sheer exhaustion took over and forced him into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

LeFou woke to three loud bangs. He thought it was gunshots at first, bolting out of his bed in fear. But only when he had gotten his hand on the door handle did he realize it was the gong of the church bells, signifying the hours. It was three in the afternoon. He sighed a bit in relief. His body felt weak. He wondered how much of that was from the sprinting and how much was from his mental pain. He needed sustenance, but there was none to be found in his little home. He had been a bit distracted the past few days, and there was no food left that wasn't moldy and fuzzy.

So Lefou headed headed into the town. He could think of only one other thing that would curb these thoughts and steady the shaky feeling he had all over his body. He walked into the tavern, heading straight for the bar. It was fairly empty in the establishment, but he attributed this to the hour of the day. The owner walked up to LeFou, and without waiting to hear what he was going to ask for he handed him a pint of ale. LeFou smiled graciously, handing him a coin. He wandered toward an empty circular table and flopped in a chair, leaning against the table as he drank slowly from his pint. He drank the whole pint in a manner of minutes, ordering another. It had taken the sharp blade of his suffering and dulled it temporarily. He was no longer tortured by his thoughts.

"LeFou?" Someone asked softly behind him. He whipped around in his chair so fast he gave himself a crick in the neck. For a brief moment, his mind had tricked him into thinking Gaston could still be alive and was coming to find him. But it was, of course, not him. It was a skinny man, not a brawny man. He had been at the battle, but LeFou had not seen much of him. But he was alive. Unlike Gaston.

"Hi," LeFou sighed out sadly, unable to hide his disappointment.

Stanley frowned slightly, but he still moved to sit down one seat over from LeFou at the otherwise empty table, "I saw you at the fight, but I didn't see you leave. I thought something might have happened to you."

"No I'm pretty sure only one of us died that night." LeFou said bitterly, following the cold statement with a large drink of the alcohol.

Stanley watched him for a moment before turning to look down in his own pint of booze and mumbling, "I heard that Gaston was dead, but I didn't totally believe it. I think I assumed the man was immortal."

"So had I." LeFou admitted, glancing at Stanley and looking back to his drink quickly. There was a moment of silence before he admitted, "I watched him die."

Stanley audibly gasped in surprise, "My god. I'm so sorry. You saw —"

"Him fall to his death. Yes. He — killed the Beast. So I guess he at least got what he wanted after all."

"The Beast isn't dead." Stanley said, surprised and confused that he did not already know.

LeFou looked up at him, holding his gaze intently, "Are you joking?"

"No, of course not. The prince is restored." He started to explain, "I didn't see it myself, but word spread through town pretty fast. The enchantress brought him back to life and ended the curse because Belle loved him."

"The Beast survived?" LeFou asked in disbelief.

"Yes, Prince David is alive. Did you not notice that half of the town woke up?" Stanley asked, sounding almost as confused as LeFou did. He had a hard time believing that LeFou had failed to notice the shockwave that had rocked the town in the morning hours as the curse broke across the whole village.

"What do you mean woke up?"

Stanley sighed, "I don't know how to explain it. Everyone just — remembered. Some went back to live in the castle, like Monsieur Jean. He was actually married to the little teapot, the little teacup is his child. That sounds a lot weirder when it's spoken out loud." He paused to try to collect himself, "Essentially, since the curse was placed upon the prince, time stood still in Villeneuve and the castle. Nobody there aged. We did, but none of us could remember or find the castle if we tried. That was part of the curse. That's why Belle was the only one who could really break it. She wasn't born here."

LeFou sighed, "So, a lot of people suddenly remembered the castle? The prince?" Stanley nodded his confirmation. "Do you?"

Stanley shrugged, "Not really. Nobody can say how old the curse is, but old enough. Monsieur Jean would now appear to be anywhere from ten to twenty years older than his wife who was born the same year as he was. Either way, I was very young when the curse happened. I wouldn't have had any involvement with the castle. My mom and dad were just farmers. None of us would have been there, what's there to remember then?"

"Well it's good to know I'm not the odd one out. I don't recall anything either." LeFou admitted with a small sigh of relief. He had briefly thought he was completely insane.

"No, you're not alone. A lot of the town remembers, but very few are actually moving back to the castle or having reunions or whatever." Stanley said as he raised his glass back to his lips. There was a stretch of silence between them then. LeFou was silently trying to process that Gaston had died and the Beast — Prince David, apparently — had lived. He wasn't sure what it meant. But he had a bad feeling it was more evidence that Gaston had been the real monster. "Are you alright?" Stanley's voice caught his attention again.

"Hm? Oh," LeFou said, about to say that he was perfectly fine. But that was a massive lie. "No, I'm really not alright."

"Did you get hurt?" Stanley asked, pointing at the scar that was developing on the back of LeFou's left hand that rested on the table.

LeFou looked down at it curiously. His flesh had scabbed over the open wound. It looked a whole lot worse than it had felt. Ironic that despite being unaffected by the battle, he had still acquired a battle scar. "Yes, but not in the battle." He said truthfully, not offering any further information on the matter. Stanley took this as a sign to not press on the issue (a correct assumption) and instead diverted, "Listen, most everyone in this town was impressed by Gaston, that's not a lie. But since everything happened, nearly everyone has forgotten his existence. He had no family to mourn him. And nobody was all that close to him. Except you. Most of us served with him in the war, but he was the closest to you. That much was obvious. But if you ever need to just talk about all of it, I'll listen."

LeFou looked at him cautiously, not understanding why he would offer. He had never been all that close to Tom, Dick, or Stanley despite serving with them on the same squadron. Sure he had saved their lives a couple of times, the same way they had saved his a few times. That was what happened in wars — you shoot the man pointing a gun at your team. There was nothing special about that. After the war he spent most of his time with Gaston, while Tom, Dick, and Stanley stuck with each other in their own sphere. It was like they lived in different worlds that occasionally crossed paths. But at the same time — he had nobody else he could really talk to about the pain, or about anything. His parents died when he was five and he'd lived with an aunt until the war. An aunt who was dead when he had returned from the war. Everyone who ever cared about LeFou was dead. Every last one of them. "Why worry about me?" LeFou asked simply.

Stanley looked down at the small amount of liquor left in his glass. "Because you're a human being. Because you watched your best friend die and nobody comes out of that completely fine, and you shouldn't have to suffer through that alone."

"I don't think you'd want to hear the shit I'm thinking." LeFou said honestly. Frankly, his own thoughts had been terrifying him as of late. It was upsetting to say the least. "Just go back to spending time with Tom and Dick. You'd be happier that way."

"I'll decide for myself what makes me happy." Stanley said with a bit of an edge. LeFou glanced at him as he downed the last of his second drink. "And I think I can handle whatever you're thinking, trust me. You're not alone. I have witnessed death myself."

"You have?"

Stanley nodded slowly, looking off into a distant past with his eyes glazed over, "Yes," He sighed and paused before continuing, "My mom died having me. But my father died very suddenly when I was fourteen. He just collapsed in the field. I ran out to him and he was grasping at his chest. I watched him take his last breath and the light leave his eyes."

Silence permeated the tavern. Someone scooted a chair back elsewhere in the room and left. The owner suddenly busied himself with cleaning. LeFou realized that everyone had been eavesdropping on Stanley's story, perhaps on the whole conversation. So when LeFou spoke, it was at a whisper, "Let's go for a walk then." Stanley nodded silently in agreement and they both got up to leave, having already paid for the ale.

The men meandered toward the outer edges of town. They had a hard time walking, both of them tripping multiple times and wavering into the other on accident. The liquor had certainly affected them.

When they were out of the immediate center of town, LeFou felt safe to speak without fear of being listened to by anyone else. "I'm sorry. For what you had to witness."

"Thank you." Stanley muttered sadly. "So you see now that you're not alone?"

"Yes. Although, if anything, you witnessed something far more traumatizing than I did." LeFou admitted with a humorless laugh, "I saw my friend fall and I turned away and ran before I could hear his body splat to the ground. I only knew him for a few years. I mean, we knew each other as children but we were not friends until the war. But you — you had to watch your father die in your arms. I'd say that's a lot worse."

Stanley shook his head as they stepped out into the grassy outskirts of town, far from any of the houses. "It's not a competition for who has suffered the most. Nobody wins at that."

LeFou glanced at him, trying to figure out what part of Stanley he had missed all these years. He had never seemed quite as smart or sincere as he did now. "I suppose that's true."

"Besides, I've dealt with my grief. It still stings to recall it, but I've overcome it. This is about you. How _are_ you?" He implored earnestly.

LeFou shook his head, putting his hands in his pockets as he walked through the grass. "I don't really know what to tell you."

"Okay, start with what you're feeling. Label it."

LeFou shrugged absently, walking a few paces in front of Stanley to avoid his gaze. "Again, I don't know what to say. I don't feel sad. That doesn't do it justice. I feel torn. Yeah, that's it. I feel like I'm being torn in half. Part of me wants nothing more than to cry over his death for the next several hours without stop. The other part of me is trying to come to terms with who he was and what he did. If he was a bad person or not. If he was a bad person, then I shouldn't be grieving like I am, I guess. My sorrow can't be justified if he was a terrible person." He looked out at the expanse of lush hills and valleys before them. Flowers climbed up the hill in the distance. LeFou looked over his shoulder at Stanley, who was standing quietly a few feet behind him, "Do you think Gaston was a bad person?"

Stanley kept the eye contact for a moment, then looked away, "I don't think anyone is only good or only bad. It's never that black and white, is it? We all have our sins and our virtues." He paused, "I think that most of the time, bad decisions are made for a reason. Rumor has it that Gaston's father beat him senseless until Gaston joined the army. I'm not saying it condones what he did, but it might explain some of it. Perhaps he felt he had to prove himself by winning battles and getting the girl, no matter what it took. I don't know. We never will know."

"Cut the crap," LeFou said angrily, "Do you think he was a bad person?" He repeated, turning to fully face Stanley now. He was getting furious at the calm in Stanley's voice, at his rationalizing. LeFou did not need gray, he needed black and white, cut and dry.

Stanley looked back at him seriously, "There was hate in him."

"So he was bad?"

"If you really have to have it either way, he was more bad than good."

LeFou nodded slowly. He knew it had to be true. He turned his back toward Stanley again and sat on the ground, looking out at the vastness of rural France. Stanley sat next to him, softly speaking, "Just because he did bad things does not mean you are not entitled to grief."

"Yes it does."

"No, it doesn't. You do not remember him for his bad actions. You remember him for how he treated you and cared for you."

"That's the thing. I don't," LeFou stopped his sentence short and sighed, running a hand through his greasy black hair. He really needed to wash it, but he'd bed a bit preoccupied. "I don't think he cared for me."

"What makes you say that?"

A long silence followed, but Stanley did not force an answer out of him. Instead, he waited patiently. After a good chunk of time, LeFou finally spoke again, "I felt very strongly for Gaston, and I think he knew it, though I never told him. He used it to his advantage. When he was in a bind he would just bat his lashes, knowing I would come running. When Maurice tried to get me to tell the truth about what we did to him, Gaston knew how to manipulate me to get me to say what he wanted me to say. He knew that I was desperate for his affection, even though he never planned to give it. I loved him a lot more than he ever would have loved me. He was unnecessarily mean to me my whole life. He hated when we were little and I would try to play with him, but he was all too eager to have me do his work for him. That was how it always was. Now that I think about it, that's how it always would have been had he stayed alive. No matter what he did to me, I always thought he meant well. I always assumed that someday he would care about me. Maybe I knew he would never love me, but I thought he could at least love me as a friend. But he never did. I don't think he understood love, especially if what you say about his father is true. He could never have cared for me like I wanted him to. That is what I have such a hard time accepting. That if he were alive, things would not have gotten better. I know it's true, but I don't want it to be. I want it to be simple." He smirked, "But when has love ever been easy? I mean, look at stupid Romeo and Juliet."

Stanley smiled softly at the joke, but still said nothing. There was another silence. LeFou finally looked over at him, a brow furrowed, "Are you planning on saying anything?" Stanley just shook his head, "Not unless you want me to." He paused briefly, "Do you want me to?"

LeFou sighed to himself, "No. I just needed to let it all out." Stanley nodded knowingly. He had been there. He would never have made it through his own grief over his father if he had not had the same chance. "Can I — say one more thing?" LeFou asked. Stanley nodded. "This scar was — self inflicted. It wasn't really intentional. It just kind of happened. I was so caught up in my own head that I didn't realize what I was doing at the time." LeFou said, holding out his hand and staring at the gash that spanned from his knuckle to his wrist in a jagged line.

"Grief makes people do things they would not normally do." Stanley suggested.

"Did you do anything weird when you were grieving?"

Stanley laughed a bit, "Yes. I couldn't stop pacing our farmland for hours. All I could think of was how much work my father had put into it, only to die. I collapsed of exhaustion straight into a pile of manure." LeFou cracked a smile at this. It felt foreign on his face, and it vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. "How do you feel now?" Stanley asked gently.

"A bit better."

Stanley's smile widened, "I'm glad. But we better get you home before sunset."


	3. Chapter 3

Stanley saw LeFou safely home, helping him up the wooden stairs. LeFou was feeling the effects of the alcohol much harder than Stanley, which he would not shut up about. "Big ol' guys like me are suppos' t'be able to hold their drink be'er than flimsy bean stawks like you." He slurred as they were halfway up the stairs. This was the fourth time he had something of the sort to Stanley on the way home. He didn't deign a reply this time. Stanley opened the door for them and lead LeFou into the flat. He had never been here before. It was small, but hardly cramped since there was little else in the room but a bed, a fireplace, and a chair. LeFou had an arm around Stanley's shoulders for support, and Stanley had an arm firmly around LeFou's waist. He lead the drunk man to his bed and sat him down.

"Alright, get some rest LeFou." Stanley said, starting to walk away.

LeFou grabbed Stanley's wrist, though not with much strength. He weakly pulled at Stanley's arm, "Please." He murmured, his glassy eyes looking up at the skinny man in his flat, "Stay."

Stanley sighed softly and nodded. LeFou let him go and immediately laid down in bed. Stanley walked over to the fireplace and stoked the embers that remained. He threw in a small scrap of hay that rested on top of the pile of logs beside the fireplace. He patiently coaxed a fire from the embers after several minutes. He placed a single log in the hearth to keep the fire going. When he sat down in the chair in front of the fire he heard LeFou snore. He smiled to himself, trying very hard not to laugh. He didn't want to wake him, even though it would probably take far more than a laugh to wake LeFou at that point. LeFou's snore sounded quite a lot like a bear.

Stanley stretched his legs out in front of the fireplace, grateful for the warmth the fire was providing him. He couldn't help but start to nod off, despite the loud snores emitting from LeFou across the room. Stanley had always been capable of falling asleep despite loud noises. An hour or two after he fell asleep, with the fire slowly dying as it burned away the last of the log, Stanley was woken to a shrill sound. He sat up quickly and looked about, immediately seeing LeFou sitting upright in his bed. His hair was slicked back worse than before, apparently plastered to his head by sweat. His eyes were wide and his shoulders heaving with quick breaths. It occurred to Stanley as he rushed over that it had been LeFou's scream that woke him up.

"What is it?" Stanley asked fretfully, sitting on the edge of the bed.

LeFou wouldn't look at Stanley. His eyes darted everywhere else in the room, but avoided Stanley completely. "I — he — falling — splat — blood — so much blood." He couldn't form any coherent sentence, he could only just choke out the words.

"It was a dream, LeFou. Just a dream. You're safe." Stanley reminded him, "Try and breathe, okay?" He imitated a deep breath, "Breathe with me. Come on."

LeFou did as he was told, slowing his breaths down with Stanley's help. He shut his eyes and his shoulders finally relaxed. His head drooped, his chin touching his chest. Stanley was starting to suspect that LeFou had fallen asleep sitting up when he suddenly spoke, "Thank you, Stanley. I — I guess this is going to be harder than I thought."

"Grief is never easy to get through." Stanley offered. LeFou nodded but didn't say anything. "I can stay with you through the night if you like. I can't promise I won't nod off, but I'll be here if you have a nightmare or can't fall asleep."

"Thank you." LeFou said weakly, glancing up at Stanley with a small smile.

"Anything for a friend. Get some sleep." He suggested as he stood and headed back to his chair in front of the fire. He added another log to the fire as he sat down. Again, LeFou was completely asleep within moments. Stanley struggled to close his eyes and attempt sleep. The chair wasn't terribly comfortable, but that had little to do with it. He was more concerned with making sure that LeFou didn't have another nightmare. He couldn't help but turn in his chair and watch LeFou sleep. He seemed to breathe normally, looking peaceful. It was … oddly touching. Stanley shook his head, ridding himself of his thoughts as he settled down patiently in his chair.

Stanley woke slowly in the morning, the sunlight filtering in through the window waking him up. He blinked open his eyes and looked down in the hearth. The logs had turned to ash and the embers had faded in the night. He vaguely remembered where he was and turned to see that LeFou was not in his bed. He was not, in fact, in the flat at all. Stanley stood cautiously and looked around, "LeFou?" He whispered, looking at the small kitchen area behind him. But he wasn't there. There was nowhere else to look. Unless he had hidden in the fireplace, LeFou was gone. Stanley wondered why LeFou would have left without waking him. He briefly wondered if he had had a nightmare and ran off — but Stanley was certain he would have heard it if LeFou had woken in another nightmare, screamed, and ran away. So he must have snuck out before Stanley awoke. _How strange_ , Stanley thought with a sigh, _Guess I've no choice but to head home_. He went toward the door and started down the stairs. As he was turning into the street he noticed LeFou walking his way, carrying a basket at his side. LeFou noticed him and waved, picking up his pace to reach Stanley faster. "You're awake!" LeFou said delightedly, "Do you have to go home so soon?"

"No, but I wasn't sure where you had gone off to, so I figured I might as well."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I would have left a note — but I can't write. I was picking up some food for us to have when you woke up." LeFou said, "Do you want to stay for breakfast?"

Stanley didn't need to think about it for very long, "Of course," The two turned back toward the house and headed right back up the stairs. LeFou set to work, starting a new fire. Stanley looked around and couldn't figure out what to do while LeFou was cooking, so he quietly leaned against a cabinet against the wall by the small tub that was used as a sink. "Sorry I don't have much here. I don't usually spend much time here, obviously." LeFou said.

"That's okay," Stanley said quickly, realizing there was no table for them to sit at, unless they used the tiny square table beside LeFou's bed. "Did you sleep well after…"

"Yeah, much better. I don't think I had any other dreams actually. I just slept like a log." LeFou said as he picked up a log and threw it in the fire. He carefully plopped a small metal grate over the fire, supported by long iron legs that held it up and put a pan on it. He retrieved a few eggs from his basket and cracked them into the pan. "I hope the chair wasn't too uncomfortable." His tone shifted into a guilt ridden one, "I'm sorry you had to put up with me."

"It's fine. I was glad to watch out for you." Stanley said, silently hoping that LeFou didn't feel too much guilt for needing Stanley to stay with him. "I know you would have done the same for me."

At first, LeFou did not say anything in response. Then he nodded, glancing over his shoulder at Stanley, "Yeah. I would have." He turned his eyes back to the fire, "Oh, can you grab a few plates? They're in the cabinet behind you."

Stanley quickly grabbed some and carried them over to him. In a few moments, they were sitting on the edge of LeFou's bed nibbling away at several fried eggs. Stanley was oddly flustered as sitting so close to LeFou, but he wasn't about to move away. The two ate in relative silence, having run out of things to say. At least, that's how Stanley perceived it. It became apparent to him that it was time for him to go. He thanked LeFou for the meal and started to make his way toward the door, "I suppose I'll see you later?" He asked uncertainly, not really knowing whether or not LeFou would care to see him again.

"Yes, I expect you will." LeFou said, following Stanley toward the door. "Is it … okay if I come by on the bad days?"

Stanley smiled, "Of course. You can come by on good days too."

LeFou nodded his agreement, "Yes, I'll try to come by on the good days as well." And with that Stanley headed out the front door and LeFou waved at him as he headed down the stairs.


	4. Chapter 4

LeFou felt as if he was seeing Gaston around every corner. It didn't help that the tavern that he frequented the most had a painting of Gaston on the wall. But mostly he was seeing his memories of Gaston everywhere. Here was where he had stood with him and alerted him that Belle was in need. Here was where Gaston had humiliated him in front of their classmates. It was such a mixture of happy and terrible memories. Unable to figure out what to do, LeFou headed toward Stanley's home. He had been there twice before, both times when he needed to crash after drinking too much in the tavern. The small house was located just around the corner from the tavern, where LeFou had just left. He approached the dark front door and knocked quietly. After just a few moments it popped open. Stanley stood in the doorway, smiling, "LeFou! Come in." He said without asking any questions, stepping aside and holding the door open for him.

LeFou entered and headed for the carved chair with the incredibly comfortable padding that he had fallen asleep in twice before. "How are you?" Stanley asked gently as she sat across from LeFou, sitting on the less comfortable chair with significantly less cushioning.

He had been putting on a brave face up until that moment. He had not wanted to cause alarm when he had knocked on the door, and so had fashioned his expression to be more presentable. But now that the door was closed and Stanley was waiting to listen, LeFou was able to let himself relax. His face scrunched slightly in pain. He looked down at the floor and hunched over, resting his forearms on his knees. "I see him everywhere. It makes me so mad, but then it also makes me sad. I still can't quite grapple with how he treated me. It's still so hard to grieve when I know now that he didn't really care about me at all."

Stanley, as before, did not speak right away. He just waited until LeFou seemed to get it out of his system.

"He used me as a human shield. He left me for dead. He threatened to throw me into the asylum right along with Maurice if I didn't obey him. I'm mad at the memory of him. And yet I still miss him from time to time. How can I miss someone who may have hated me? Someone who, in the very least, treated me so badly." LeFou looked up at Stanley sitting across from him, nodding to signal he was ready for him to speak.

Stanley leaned forward as well, facing LeFou fully, "Please understand that, as I've said before, your grief is perfectly valid. He did not treat you well, you're right. But it's still okay that you find yourself missing him."

"Do I really miss him though? Or do I just miss the memory or thought of him?" LeFou asked rhetorically, leaning back into his chair and looking about the room as if the answer was woven into the walls. "I try to think of happy memories with him, but nothing really shows. Isn't that what people usually do when they lose someone they love? They try to remember the good times? I try to do that, but all I can think of are … neutral or bad memories. There's no fond memory of him helping me, saying a kind word, or even getting a meaningful smile from him. There were fun memories from nights in the bar, and you remember those as well as I do, but those are not what I would call happy memories. Anyone can have drunken memories." He paused, taking a deep breath. His mind was reeling and he needed a moment to grasp onto something tangible. He looked up at Stanley and looked into his eyes, using them as anchors to keep him in reality.

"Is something wrong?" Stanley asked a little anxiously.

LeFou shook his head, still not breaking eye contact, "No. Nothing's wrong." Stanley accepted this and seemed less unnerved by the eye contact, "Perhaps one way for you to heal from the grief is to find something to do with yourself. You spent all of your time after the war with Gaston, you never had a chance to get a job, right?" LeFou nodded. "Then perhaps that's just what you need. It sounds simple, but a job might be just the kind of distraction you need."

"That's a good point." LeFou said quietly, looking away. He wasn't really sure what he could possibly do. He wasn't that smart. He had been good at math in school, but what job was there for someone who was good at math? "But I don't know what I could do. I can't even read."

"You can't?"

"I wasn't just kidding when I couldn't spell Gaston's name."

"Well I can teach you to read." Stanley instantly offered.

"You can?" LeFou said incredulously. Most of his peers were illiterate, despite the efforts of the school to teach them.

"Indeed I can."

"Well … I guess I'll have to take you up on that offer. When can we start?"

"Tomorrow. Come on by whenever you're free. I can't say I have anything critical going on aside from planting the field." Stanley said plainly. LeFou vaguely recalled that Stanley had been raised by farmers, and clearly had continued on this path. He wondered how much pasture he had and where it was.

"Alright," LeFou agreed as he stood, "I'll come by in the afternoon."

"It's a," Stanley started to say and cut himself off before choking out a noun, "Plan."

 _The Next Day_

LeFou knocked on the front door when the sun was high, showing it to be about midday. As always, the door opened almost immediately. Had he been waiting by the door for him?

"Come in, come in," Stanley said as he opened the door wide and gestured.

LeFou felt himself immediately get nervous. On the dining table there was a pile of small books and some papers and a quill and inkpot. Just the sight of them made him incredibly nervous. He could physically write, but given that he had never properly learned anything after the alphabet he was pretty dreadful at writing. He could speak, and he could write phonetically — but that was about it. He couldn't read signs for stores. He just guessed what they sold by looking through the store windows.

"You can sit down if you like, no need to stand on ceremony." Stanley suggested quietly as he walked past LeFou toward the table of books.

LeFou gnawed on his lip anxiously as he slowly walked over and sat down.

"Okay, so we need to figure out where to start," Stanley said simply, "What do you know so far in regards to reading and writing?"

LeFou felt his face flush. He hated being in this position. He suddenly was anxious of embarrassing himself. He didn't mind if people knew he was illiterate (it was certainly easier than pretending otherwise) but he really didn't like showing just how bad he was at it. LeFou found himself unable to speak, so instead he reached out and grabbed a piece of parchment, dipping the quill on the table into the ink. This was all he could do. He didn't want to have to say it out loud. It was bad enough to show him. He carefully wrote each individual letter. The ink spread out a bit, his handwriting not the straightest or smoothest. However, it was still perfectly legible. He finally finished writing the letter "z" and put the quill down. He couldn't bare to look up at Stanley. This was utterly humiliating. Stanley was so much smarter than he was. He could feel a knot hardening in his stomach. His mind was trying to convince him to run, his legs practically itching with the desire to run away from this whole situation and pretend it never happened.

"Good, that's the hard part." Stanley said brightly. "If you know this then it'll be easier than you expect to learn the rest."

"I should warn you that others have tried before and failed." LeFou managed to mumble. His schoolteacher had used aggression to try to beat words into LeFou's mind. His aunt had tried praising to help him along. Neither were successful in getting him to read or write.

"That's okay. If I can't teach you, that's okay. We'll find you something that doesn't require reading or writing then." Stanley said optimistically. LeFou was slightly annoyed by his companion's chipper demeanor. Stanley reached edged a book toward LeFou. LeFou stared at it blankly and looked at the wall, "What do you want me to do with it?"

"I want you to feel it. See it. Examine it."

"Why?"

"I have my reasons." Stanley said vaguely.

LeFou briefly glanced at him with a doubtful expression before holding the book in his hands. The cover was bare and grayish green. He ran a thumb along the cover. It was almost scratchy in texture. He turned it over and looked at the spine and ran a finger down it. Some letters in gold were written on the side but he couldn't figure out what they said. He opened the cover and turned each page individually. The pages were yellowed with age and ragged on the side. He caught a scent of musk coming from within the pages. It was an odd smell he was unfamiliar with, but he thought he liked it. He saw images on each page. Words were scrawled under each picture in big block letters.

"What do you see?"

"A drawing of a cricket with some letters below it. But the letters are all jumbled. I can't sort them out." LeFou said in frustration.

Stanley's tone was perfectly calm, "It's okay. Try this." He reached over with another piece of parchment and deliberately covered all but the first letter on the page. "What is it?"

"T,"

"And this?"

"H,"

"And…?"

"E. I know the letters but I don't know what it says."

"Well that's what I would expect. But in order to learn how to say it and read it, you have to know what the letters are. So what are they again?"

"T, h, e."

"That spells 'the'."

"What?" LeFou said incredulously. He knew the word "the" of course. He could speak plenty of words just fine! But he never spelled them right, or knew what they looked like on paper. He picked up words from hearing others speaking them, much like a toddler might.

"Yes. T-h-e spells 'the'. Obviously, you know the word 'the' but now you know what it looks like, yes?" Stanley said simply. LeFou nodded. The letters still looked suspicious and foreign on the page, but they made just a little more sense. "Now, here's the next word." He slid the paper back to uncover the entirety of the next word. LeFou got anxious immediately. It was too many letters in a row. They looked like a small army preparing for battle against him, rather than harmless dots of ink on a page. "Here's a hint, it's the image on the page."

"That says 'cricket'?"

"Yes." Stanley said patiently, "Can you spell it out for me?"

LeFou was struggling to keep the letters in order on the page as he looked at them. His eyes floated from the first word to the second word. It seemed as if all the letters were completely scrambled together. "K-r-e-h-c-e-t?" Without saying a word, Stanley reached forward and covered the first word with his hand and the second word with the paper. He slowly pulled back the paper to reveal the first letter. "C." LeFou could do this. He knew he could. He knew he had to, at least. "C-r-i-c-k-e-t. Cricket. Cricket. C-r-i-c-k-e-t. Cricket." He thought repeating might help solidify it in his mind.

"And what was the first word?" Stanley asked quietly without showing it on the page.

"The."

"So the first two words together are?"

"The cricket. The cricket."

"Perfect." He shifted the paper to cover the first two words and revealed only the third word, his hands covering the remainder of the sentence. He was stretched a bit across the table and it was hurting his muscles but he didn't care. "This word?"

LeFou fought hard against the confusion and the anxiety that rattled his mind. He sorted out the letters as best as he could. He wanted to be able to read the letters without having to have each one covered. "W-e-a-r-s."

"I'm not going to pronounce it for you this time. I want you to sound out each letter."

LeFou groaned irritably. "Wuh-eee-ay-arr-sss." He stifled a growl in his throat, "That's not even a word!"

"In this case, when the letters 'e' and 'a' are close together it sounds more like an 'eh' sound. Give that a try."

"Wuh-eh-r-s." LeFou blinked as he stared at the words. They slowly started to stay still on the page, "Wears?" He glanced up at Stanley who was beaming in a smile as he nodded.

"Yes. Exactly."

"Really?"

"Yes. You're getting the hang of it already." Stanley was shamelessly proud of him.

"The cricket wears …" LeFou started and glanced at the image above the text. He moved Stanley's hand off the last few words. "A … tohp — no top — hat. A top hat?" Stanley nodded. "The cricket wears a top hat?" The image seemed to agree with him and while the letters still didn't make a lot of sense to him he was at least able to use context to piece the sentence together.

"Perfect. You got it." Stanley said delightedly. "This is good progress. I'll teach you the rules of grammar and such soon, but for now I want you to keep practicing pronunciation. If you like we can go through words you know how to say and I can spell them out for you. It might help you understand the patterns."

LeFou agreed and the two sat down, having an odd sort of conversation where LeFou would say a random word that came to mind and Stanley would spell the word out for him. Without even realizing, they spent two whole hours doing this. It was incredibly beneficial for LeFou, who was starting to slowly pick up on the way that certain letters sounded different in certain situations and pairings. Once in awhile, Stanley would inform him of a related rule, "I before E except after C." LeFou hated that rule in particular, but many of them made sense and worked with the patterns he was crafting in his mind. Finally, he admitted that he had to head home before it got much darker outside.

Stanley quickly stood and lead LeFou to the door, "Well, I think you're going to learn a lot quicker than you thought. You made amazing progress today."

"Thank you. I couldn't have done it without a good teacher." LeFou said admittedly, genuinely grateful he had a friend willing to help him. They stood in the doorway and LeFou felt an odd pull to hug Stanley goodbye, but he decided it would be too weird and awkwardly shook his hand before heading down the street. Stanley watched him go with a little smile and a soft sigh.


	5. Chapter 5

By the tail end of fall, LeFou had acquired quite a knack for reading. His writing was still improving, although it was drastically more legible than it had been. He insisted, when pressed, that it was all thanks to Stanley that he had come so far. Stanley, however, would insist that LeFou's belief in himself had been the real reason he had learned.

In late November, LeFou finally felt literate enough to enter the workforce. The problem was that he had no idea what to do. He found himself sitting at the tavern with Stanley, talking it over. The portrait of Gaston was still above the fireplace but he didn't take much notice of it anymore. "Well, what do you enjoy doing?"

LeFou stared blankly at him, "All I've ever done is fight in the war. I haven't had much opportunity to think about what I like to do."

Stanley shrugged, "Okay, you have a point there. Maybe we can start at what you _don't_ want to do?"

LeFou pondered this for a moment, "I suppose I'm not really fond of physical labor. Case and point, my big beer belly." Stanley couldn't help but laugh. "Even in the war I hated running, as you remember." Stanley nodded. This was very true.

"Okay so clearly farming, building, and masonry are bad choices for you. Anything else you'd rather avoid?"

"Babies."

"Babies?"

"Babies."

"Why?"

LeFou sighed, "I like kids. I don't like babies, and they don't like me. They squirm, cry, and make a mess all day and that's all they do. I don't want to deal with babies in my job."

Stanley couldn't help but laugh, "LeFou, men don't work with babies. Only midwives and nurse maids do. It's kind of an exclusively female task."

LeFou blush when he realized that Stanley was right. "Oh. Of course. I knew that."

"With all of that in mind, can you think of anything you might want to do?" Stanley asked gently, hoping to get something more substantial out of him.

LeFou looked down at the table and sighed. He thought and thought but nothing concrete was coming up. Perhaps he was destined to be without purpose. His eyes shifted up to the image of Gaston painted over the fireplace. And just like that, a memory fleshed into his mind: " _Why are you enlisting, LeFou? I would have assumed you'd be a schoolmaster,"_ Gaston's voice filtered into his mind. He couldn't help but smile to himself, "What about being a teacher?"

Stanley nodded as he thought about it, "Yeah. I could see it. Do you think you'd enjoy doing it?"

"Yeah. I do. I like kids, I like helping kids. I'm good at math, and now that I can read I can teach that too. Besides, the teachers in the school now are far too harsh on the kids. I'd like to be the teacher that's respected because they treat the student's with the same respect, rather than using fear." LeFou explained, becoming more enthused at the idea as he talked.

Stanley noticed a gleam in LeFou's eye, "Well, I can tell that you're excited at the idea of teaching. What made you think of it?"

LeFou sighed softly and looked up at the portrait of Gaston. Stanley followed his gaze and felt himself flush, though he couldn't explain why. Without looking away from the painting, and therefore unable to notice Stanley's blush, "When I enlisted, he was there. We hadn't seen each other in years. He was surprised I was enlisting, said he expected me to be a teacher instead. I doubt I could have been one then, but I can be now."

Stanley was glad that LeFou was able to find a happy memory, and to use it to his advantage. Or at least, he knew he should be glad. He was only marginally happy for him, but mostly he was oddly jealous. "Teaching it is then. Why don't you head down to the schoolhouse today and see if they have a spot open for you?"

LeFou nodded, "I'm going to, right now. I'll come by your place and let you know if I'm successful." He assured Stanley, squeezing his shoulder once before heading out of the tavern.

Stanley smiled a bit to himself. He really enjoyed spending such time with LeFou, but he sometimes wondered if that feeling was not reciprocated. He glanced up at Gaston's image on the wall and scowled before heading home.

He had been retired in front of the fireplace, reading his favorite book when the front door swung open to his left. He jumped in surprise, but was relieved to find that it was only LeFou barging in unannounced. "You'll never believe it! They actually were in desperate need of a teacher, old Monsieur Pierre just retired and they hadn't been able to find a replacement. So they hired me on the spot!" LeFou said in a rush as he ran toward the hearth, looking at Stanley with nothing but a wide grin. Stanley immediately stood, putting his book face down to hold his page, and congratulated LeFou. To his surprise, his friend immediately embraced him in a hug. It took Stanley a moment to remember that one was usually supposed to hug back. He loosely wrapped his arms around his friend. Stanley was immensely surprised at the gesture, having never been this physically close to LeFou before. He was instantly comforted by the sensation, having not had a good hug since he was a young boy. He forgot how comforting they could be. It certainly helped that LeFou smelled divine; a mix of pine, chalk, and old books. What had felt like several minutes to Stanley had really only been a matter of seconds when LeFou finally broke their embrace and pulled away again. He was still beaming with delight, "Thank you so much, Stanley. I couldn't have done it without you. If there's anything I can ever do to repay you, just say the word."

Stanley shrugged nonchalantly, "How about you make it up to me by visiting after work? Catch me up on what you're up to and how it's going."

"It's a deal." LeFou assured, taking a step back and extending his hand. Stanley shook it without hesitation.


	6. Chapter 6

LeFou let the class go right as the church bells rang three o'clock through the air of Villeneuve. "Don't forget to finish the chapter by Monday!" He called out to the mass of children streaming out of the building. He sighed a bit in defeat. Once he dismissed them there was no hope in telling them anything, even if it was something important. He collected his things together at his desk quietly, until he heard a little sniffle. He looked up and saw a little boy sitting in the back of the room, head down on his desk in his folded arms. LeFou quietly walked between the desks and sat at the seat next to the boy. His name was Pierre. He was seven. He had struggled a lot lately. LeFou had noticed, much of his assignments coming in half done or not at all. "Pierre? Is everything okay?"

His head shook in his arms.

"What's wrong?"

Pierre finally sat up, his tears streamed down his face and his eyes a brighter blue than usual, "I don't want to go home."

Red flags were flying in the back of LeFou's mind. "Why's that?"

Pierre started to cry again, his small hands frantically trying to wipe them away. "Grandpére says things that make me sad. I don't want to go home and have him get mad at me."

LeFou's worst fears were confirmed. "Pierre, does your grandpére ever … hurt you?"

Pierre shook his head, "No, he just screams. A lot. And it scares me."

LeFou sighed, running a hand through his thick black hair. "Pierre, I want you to listen to me closely okay?" The young boy turned to look at him, paying all of his attention to his schoolteacher. "You're a good kid. I don't care what your grandpére says, I think that you're a wonderful person. You're always the first to offer your lunch to Luc when he comes empty handed. You're always trying to help everyone else with their work, even if you don't understand it yourself. Not many young boys your age care about others like you do. Please do not let what your grandpére says get to you too much. If you ever need to talk to me about it, please do. I will always be here to listen. And if something very bad should ever happen, I want you to run straight to my home, understand? Do you know where Widow Sabine lives?" The boy nodded. "If anything bad happens, you go to her door. I live just above her in flat, and she'll bring you straight up to me if you ask."

"Okay," Pierre said quietly, rubbing his eyes.

LeFou watched him carefully. His heart stung for the boy. "Are you going to be okay for tonight?" The boy nodded. "Just remember what I said, okay?"

"Okay Monsieur LeFou." Pierre agreed. He gathered his books and supplies together into his bag. LeFou watched him go with a small sigh. He said a silent prayer for the boy, hoping that someday he would find a happier home.

LeFou consciously decided to put the thoughts of Pierre aside. There was nothing he could do right now. So he headed home. But when he got there he found Stanley sitting on the steps that lead up to his front door. "Hey," LeFou said as if this happened every day, which it most certainly did not, "Everything okay?"

Stanley stood, "Yes, everything is fine. I just wanted to know if you'd like to go riding."

LeFou gave him a curious expression, "What are you up to?"

"Nothing, calm down." Stanley insisted. "Yes or no?"

LeFou hedged for a moment, "Oh I don't know — I had big plans to grade essays tonight and find new ways to torture my prodigies."

"Please?" Stanley whined like LeFou's students.

"Fine," LeFou laughed, "We can go riding."

"Alright, put your stuff away and let's go." Stanley said with a grin.

"We're leaving right now?"

"Right now."

LeFou sighed and raced upstairs to deposit his bag in his room and put on his riding boots. He headed back down the stairs but didn't see Stanley right away. He walked out onto the road and looked around, only to find Stanley already on his palomino mare with LeFou's dark bay horse waiting patiently beside him, his reins in Stanley's hand. LeFou headed over and pulled himself into the saddle. "Where are we going?" He asked as Stanley started to head through town ahead of him.

"You'll see." Stanley said vaguely, causing LeFou to roll his eyes.

The moment they were out of the city limits Stanley urged his horse to pick up speed. Within a few moments, the two were racing through the beauty of France. LeFou's grin was wide. The wind blew through him, filling him instead of draining him like it once did. Stanley finally slowed as they started up another hill. LeFou had no clue where they were and silently hoped that Stanley knew how to get back from here. As they came up the hill, LeFou glanced around the area. There were villages and towns like theirs that dotted the area, but all were far away from them. "This is where I wanted to bring you." Stanley said as the horses climbed to the top of the large hill. LeFou looked down and saw the vast ocean spreading toward the horizon.

It was stunning. The sun was still high enough in the sky to cast its beautiful light down upon the water. The breeze blew in the scent of the ocean and it was indescribably wonderful to LeFou. He looked over at Stanley and smiled, "What compelled you to bring me here?"

Stanley shrugged, "This is where I used to come and think. This is where I came when I needed to forget life. I don't know, it calms me. It helped me through my grief."

LeFou nodded, understanding now. In the past several months he had spent an increasing amount of time with Stanley. In the beginning he had seen Stanley whenever he was in the most pain. Over time, he had managed to pick up his pieces.

But six months after Gaston's death, the only thing still plaguing LeFou was the nightmare. It was just the one, but it played in his sleep every now and then. The image of Gaston falling to his death. Sometimes the dream got overly detailed and horrifying, other times it gave him a chance to wake up before it truly scared him. Stanley had spent the last six months helping him tackle the sorrow every time it appeared, helping him cool his anger when it sweltered. LeFou wasn't sure if he was at the point of total acceptance yet, but he knew that he was a lot closer than he would have been without Stanley. He wasn't sure where he would be in that moment without him.

"Thank you for all of this," LeFou said earnestly to his friend, "I could not have worked through all of this without you."

"What else are friends for?"

LeFou shrugged, knowing there was no real need to answer the rhetorical question. They sat back on their horses and enjoyed the view for the moment. LeFou suddenly recalled when he had done the same with Gaston after the war, looking down at Villeneuve. He felt so much better being beside Stanley than he had around Gaston. For one thing, Stanley was far nicer to him. For another, he was far easier to have a conversation with. There was no need to draw all topics of conversation back to him, as he had had to do with Gaston. Stanley was okay with not talking, with just listening. "We should come here again some time," LeFou said honestly.

"We will, I promise. But for now, let's head home. Let me make you dinner."

LeFou laughed, "You had me at dinner."

An hour or so later, they had brought their horses back to the local stable and had walked back to LeFou's home. When they reached his front door, he noticed a letter sticking halfway out from under the door. This was usually how his mail was delivered. Widow Sabine would get it and put it under his door for him. But it was a very rare occasion for him to receive mail. He picked up the envelope as he opened the door and let Stanley in.

"What's that?" Stanley asked as he headed toward the fireplace, clearly familiar with the layout of the flat.

"Not sure yet." LeFou mumbled. He opened the envelope to find a small piece of cardstock. He read it over and smiled a bit, "Prince David and Belle are getting married, we've been invited."

"We?" Stanley asked, a bit surprised that their names would be on the same invitation.

"Well, I've been invited. But I can bring you as my guest, though I would bet anything they've invited the entire village." LeFou assured him.

"I'm sure they have. I'll check when I go home." Stanley said. "Will you go?"

"Of course. I wouldn't miss a good wedding. Free food and drink with dancing and good music? Who wouldn't sign up?" LeFou laughed.


	7. Chapter 7

LeFou had guessed correctly, Belle and David had invited the entire town, so there was really no point in bringing guests. But he still showed up with Stanley at his side. It was the biggest event that had been held in years, and the ballroom was packed with people. When he arrived with Stanley the music was already playing. David and Belle had already made their entrance and were dancing to their first song together. LeFou stood in the crowd beside Stanley, beaming with joy. He had grown to like David and Belle. He didn't know them terribly well, but they had been good to the village. Anyone who loved their subjects enough to invite every last one of them had to be good. Maurice stepped in and danced a number with his daughter as others began to gather in the middle of the ballroom. Everyone began dancing.

[A/N: Start playing "Beauty and the Beast (Finale)" here and it should synchronize somewhat]

The music rose in a powerful, if invisible, arch that then billowed out through the room like a beam of golden light. Stanley glanced at LeFou, but LeFou did not notice. He was too busy watching the crowd dancing in perfect harmony. It appeared to be one of the final singing performances, given how long the lovely opera singer had been singing already. Neither of them had danced a single number yet. Stanley opened his mouth to ask LeFou a question, but was interrupted by a young woman he recognized as Claudette. "Care to dance?" She asked politely. They were, after all, two of the only men left off the floor. He glanced at LeFou, an eyebrow raised in silent questioning. LeFou smiled and encouraged him, "Go on," Stanley smiled and took Claudette's hand, joining the dance with her.

With his friend now dancing, LeFou felt the urge to be out there himself. He didn't have any excuses left to not have fun. He turned and found a young woman, who appeared to be Claudette's sister, sitting by herself. He offered his hand to her, "May I?" She looked up at him with a bright smile, gladly taking his hand. The two headed into the growing number of dancers in the midst of the ballroom. The music shifted from bright and cheerful to soft and slow effortlessly. LeFou didn't mind, he was happy to just be hearing the wonderful music and dancing along with it. He faced his partner, their forearms crossing and touching at each precise, soft musical note. Everyone in Villeneuve knew the particular dance, and performed it beautifully. And while LeFou did not even know the name of his dancing partner (was it Laurette or Paulette?), he still was enjoying the beautiful music. The woman did not take her eyes off of him, smiling the whole while. He returned it politely.

The gentle music swelled again, filling the room once more. With little effort, LeFou continued his dance with his partner, their feet moving gracefully across the floor. Together, together, apart, back together. He was so caught up in the magic of the moment, that when he spun his dance partner he didn't notice that he had unintentionally spun her straight out of his arms. But almost immediately she was replaced by someone spinning into his arms. He widened his eyes in surprise when he saw none other than Stanley in his arms. Stanley looked down at him and cracked a smile, laughing a bit as they carried on dancing like nothing had happened. Without it having to be said, LeFou lead them, keeping them in synchronization with everyone else. The wonderful opera singer across the room delivered her final, powerful lines, "Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme. Beauty and the beast." The two men slowed their dancing as the music concluded, both looking at each other with a mixture of surprise and joy. When the music came to a fantastic end they let go of one another and applauded the outstanding performance — but they still didn't take their eyes off each other. It was the strangest thing.

"You never told me you could dance." LeFou said with a smile.

"You never asked." Stanley was blushing, but LeFou didn't notice. A more mellow tune began, though it was almost jarring after the previous performance. "Care to go again?" Stanley offered casually.

"Why not?" LeFou said, taking him up on his offer. He would later wonder what had happened to his poor female partner (where did she end up?), but in that moment he wasn't thinking about anyone but Stanley. Their movements were a bit more fluid this time, and they found their balance. As they moved in coordinated patterns to the rhythm, it dawned on LeFou why dancing was so central to most courting endeavors. It forced close physical contact with a person. But it didn't always mean anything. He certainly had not felt a thing with his female partner earlier. It had been a dance, nothing more. But this dance with Stanley did not feel like that. But surely that was because he knew Stanley, and was his friend. Of course it would be different than dancing with a stranger.

"Where did you learn to dance like this?" Stanley asked him as if this was a normal situation that they were in.

LeFou smiled at the first fond memory he had recalled in a long time, "On the toes of my aunt. She used to make me practice with her, which was totally ridiculous and embarrassing on so many levels. I have to admit, you're a far better dancing partner than she was."

"I would hope so."

The song dwindled to a close and they separated again, "LeFou, do you want to go for a walk?" Stanley asked kindly. LeFou nodded and followed him through the crowd, making their way out of the ballroom after a bit of effort. They headed outside, taking the steps down the castle and walking slowly forward. "How are you?" Stanley asked, just like he always did.

"I'm really happy." LeFou said honestly. He had not felt this good in a long time.

"Good. I'm glad." Stanley said with an odd tone that LeFou could not quite label.

"Are you okay, Stanley?"

"Me? Oh, well," He paused, "Yes. I am okay. But I could be happier."

"Did something happen? What did I miss?"

"No, no, it's nothing like that. I just — I know I can be happier than I already am, but I currently do not have what could make me happy."

They had stepped onto the bridge over the small creek. "You're not making any sense at all." LeFou said in mild frustration. What was wrong with his friend?

"I'm sorry." Stanley sighed apologetically, trying to sort his own thoughts out before speaking again, "Why did you avoid dancing for the majority of the ball?" He was leaning against the bridge looking down into the water instead of at LeFou.

Even though he couldn't see it, LeFou shrugged, "I don't know. Just didn't feel like it."

"But you were happy to later."

"Yes, because I didn't want to watch you having all the fun."

"Fair enough," Stanley said.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

There was a long pause, though it was not silent. Even from all the way out here they could still faintly hear the music. Finally, Stanley asked what he had been dying to know this whole time. "Did you intentionally spin your partner away from you?"

LeFou looked at him curiously, moving to stand next to him, his forearms crossed on the wooden bridge. He was looking at his friend, but his friend did not look back. "I don't think so. It just sort of happened."

"So you didn't mean to dance with me?"

"Not the first time, no. But I had no issues with it. Why wouldn't I want to dance with my best friend?" LeFou asked gently, trying to figure out what he was getting at. "Stanley, it feels like there is something you're not telling me. Whatever it is, trust me, I can handle it."

Stanley didn't speak right away, staring sullenly into the water. LeFou nudged Stanley's arm with his elbow. Stanley ignored it. LeFou did it again, "C'mon, out with it." He said as he jabbed at him again. It took about a dozen tries until he finally got a laugh out of Stanley. "Fine, I'll tell you if you promise to stop doing that."

"Promise."

Despite the laughter and jest, Stanley still felt queasy with anxiety. How was he supposed to tell him? Really, was there any other way of saying it? He could keep being vague, beating around the bush until LeFou put two and two together. But Stanley knew that was a bad idea, since clearly it was not working. "I really like you LeFou."

"Um, I like you too? I thought that was obvious awhile ago?"

"You dunce." A third voice joined the party. Both men turned to look. On the castle side of the bridge was Tom and Dick, their old friends. It had been Dick that called LeFou a dunce. Dick was kind of a dick like that. "Yeah," Tom added as they started to cross the bridge, "He's pining after ye, mate. Was I the only one who noticed that years ago?"

"No, I noticed too! Don't go taking all the credit." Dick said with false anger.

"Whatever. I jest cannot belief these numb nuts are not together yet." Tom slurred as they made it across the bridge.

"Yeah, just get it over with ye ninnies." Dick laughed uproariously as they stepped off the other side of the bridge. Shortly thereafter they both fell through one of the hedges. LeFou couldn't help but laugh. Those two were pieces of work.

He looked over at Stanley, about to speak, only to find that Stanley had his head down in his arms. "What are you doing?" For the love of all that was holy, was Stanley crying?

Stanley lifted his head, his face flushed crimson but his cheeks free of tears. "I'm sorry about them. They don't know what they're saying though. They're clearly drunk."

"Uh-huh," LeFou raised an eyebrow at him. "Then why are you blushing?"

Stanley started to make some bullshit up, but he stopped himself halfway through. "Fine. They were telling the truth. I have been ... interested in you for a long time. But not until this past year did I really feel like I was actually falling for you."

LeFou didn't say anything, his expression now unreadable. Until Stanley had said it, LeFou had not completely believed it. But as Stanley spoke, LeFou thought back to the odd feeling he had had when Stanley had stumbled into his arms at the dance. Was that love felt like? It sure as hell was not what he had felt for Gaston.

"Are you going to say anything?" Stanley asked slowly, cautiously. Anxiously.

"I thought you were more interested in women."

"Really?" Stanley laughed in surprise and disbelief, "Have you ever seen me with a woman in any capacity?"

LeFou thought about it, but admittedly came up with nothing. "I suppose not. Except just now in the ball."

"She asked me to dance, LeFou, you saw that. I had actually been about to ask you to dance when she walked over." Stanley explained.

"Really?"

"Yes," Stanley said, the weight of his secret off his shoulders allowed him to talk like he normally would have with LeFou. "I had wanted to dance with you the whole time. I thought if I could just share a dance with you it would make it easier to tell you the truth." He paused and laughed dryly at himself, "Obviously it didn't."

LeFou looked down into the water. He didn't know what to say or do now. Did he care for Stanley in that way? Or was it just a close friendship?

"I take it I have barked up the wrong tree, however?" Stanley asked quietly. A dull pain began to blossom in his chest at the thought. Had he just ruined their friendship too?

"I guess I never really thought about it." LeFou finally said, still feeling too shy to look directly at Stanley. "But, really, how different could it be?" He finally looked back at Stanley. He looked nervous, but slightly at peace. LeFou knew that if he were romantically involved with Stanley the only thing that would be radically different would be physical intimacy. They had already experienced a good deal of emotional intimacy. Stanley was quiet, essentially waiting for a final verdict. LeFou figured they'd been talking too much as it was, and he knew if he thought much more about it he would probably convince himself out of it. So he finally gave up, threw his cautions to the wind, and leaned up to kiss Stanley.

Stanley was not surprised or taken off guard, he just pulled LeFou closer, a hand resting on his jaw. But almost immediately they were interrupted by raucous hollering. They pulled apart, looking around to figure out the source of the noise. Tom and Dick were laughing and yelling at each other a few yards from the end of the bridge. They had clearly been snooping. "I told ye he'd make the first move. Fork over the money dammit!" Dick said, putting Tom in a headlock.

"Hey!" Stanley shouted in their general direction. Both men looked up at him curiously. "Did you place bets?"

"Yup! When ye told us ye liked him, I bet this geezer ye wouldn't even make the first move. And I was right! So this weasel owes me." Dick said triumphantly.

"Te'k'nly, he did make the firs' move. He told him how he felt firs' did'n he?" Tom slurred.

"Yeah, that he did, but that ain't a _move_ is it?" Dick spat back.

LeFou took Stanley's hand and slowly pulled him along over the bridge. They walked right past their drunken friends without notice. They found themselves hand in hand, walking down the hill to town.


	8. Chapter 8

"Again?" LeFou asked curiously as he noticed where Stanley was headed. They found themselves, once again, on horseback and climbing the hill to look down at the ocean and shore below. Though this time they were sharing a horse.

"I promised I would bring you back, didn't I?" He asked, dismounting from the horse. He offered his hand to LeFou and helped him down. LeFou sighed with a smile as he sat and looked out at the ocean before him. Stanley grabbed an apple from the saddlebag, giving it to his horse and letting her wander before joining his partner. They sat side by side, close together, watching the waves. Stanley put his arm around LeFou's shoulders, who instinctively leaned into him. He nuzzled against his chest, briefly closing his eyes to hear the sound of his heartbeat. If there was one thing that LeFou had learned about himself in the past few months of this relationship, it was that he was a hopeless romantic.

"If someone had told you, say five years ago, that this is where you would be and this is what you would be doing on this day - would you have believed them?" LeFou asked quietly.

"No. I never imagined I would be lucky enough to actually be with you." Stanley admitted, resting his chin on LeFou's head. The ocean was quiet today. It was the perfect day. Although, most days felt perfect now. They had had their fair share of conflict, but it almost always was over something ridiculously unimportant. Generally, this kind of peace was what they enjoyed together.

"Good, because I wouldn't have believed it either. I don't know what I expected my life to look like, but I was never hopeful enough for this kind of happiness." LeFou said, "I just assumed I'd probably be alone and sad."

"You're such a downer," Stanley chuckled.

LeFou rolled his eyes, "Shut up, I want to enjoy the view in peace."

Stanley was quiet for all of ten seconds before interrupting LeFou's peace again,"You know, I bet I'd make a good pirate." Stanley smirked.

LeFou sat up and shook his head, "No you would not. I'd make a good pirate." He insisted, folding his arms. This was the kind of playful banter that happened on a daily basis with them.

"No, I'm calling bull. You're hardly intimidating enough to be a pirate. Pirates have to be a bit scary. You're about as scary as a snowman." Stanley laughed.

"Oh please," LeFou rolled his eyes, "Says the man who's a literal bean pole."

"Dear, I think you forget the meaning of the word 'literal'." Stanley said, nudging his side playfully, just as LeFou did to him all the time. "Fine, I admit, we could both be good pirates." LeFou looked over at him and broke into a smile, laughing. "Why are we even talking about pirates at all?"

"The sea, of course." Stanley said, gesturing to the azure before them.

"Right! I kind of forgot it was there." LeFou said honestly, blushing a bit. Stanley gave him a look of disbelief. "No, really. I'm not trying to be corny. I got distracted by you."

Stanley smiled. He knew that LeFou meant it. He was pitifully romantic at times, but Stanley found it endearing. "You're ridiculously cute." He murmured, leaning in to kiss him. They stayed like this for awhile, soaking in the sun and one another.

Stanley eventually pulled himself away (with a great deal of effort) to say, "I forgot, there's something I wanted to do really quick."

"What else is there to possibly do out here?" LeFou asked curiously, wondering what he was up to. Stanley was always up to something. For all of LeFou's hopeless romanticism, it was Stanley that was always planning ridiculously sweet and kind things for him.

"Just — one second." Stanley said. He got to his feet and ran down the hill toward his horse that was chewing on some dandelions in the valley. LeFou watched him curiously. He watched as Stanley reached for something in the saddlebag. He pocketed whatever it was. LeFou shook his head, turning back to the ocean and waiting patiently for Stanley to make it back up the steep hill. He laughed when several minutes later he saw Stanley flop on the ground beside him, panting like a parched dog. "You okay?"

Stanley shook his head but nonetheless said, "Yeah … just … gimme a second. Trying not to die."

"Please don't die. Don't think I could handle that." LeFou said casually. Once upon a time the sentiment might have sent him into a tailspin.

Stanley lay there, trying to catch his breath for a while before he finally got to his feet. He gestured for LeFou to stand as well. "Oh for heaven's sake," His partner complained as he got up, "Where on God's green earth are you sending me now?"

"Nowhere, but quit complaining." Stanley teased. "I just felt like standing."

"Uh-huh. Don't think I can't tell you're up to something." LeFou said, seriously getting suspicious at that point.

Stanley smiled and rolled his eyes, taking LeFou's hands in his, "I wanted to tell you something, but I don't want you interrupting me, compelled as you may be."

"Alright, fine. I'll try my hardest." LeFou said with a small defeated sigh.

"Thank you." Stanley laughed a bit, pausing for a moment to collect himself. "I know that we haven't really been together for a long time, officially, but it certainly feels like we've been together much longer. We've seen each other through thick and thin. I don't care to imagine where I would be right now without you. I know that I would not be as happy. You have brought so much light into my life, and I hope I have brought joy to your life as well." LeFou's expression of mirth was faded for a more shocked expression. His eyes had widened, his grip had tightened in his partner's hands. He knew exactly what he was up to now. But he knew better than to interrupt. "Back when I first took you here, I promised you that I would bring you back here. But I also promised myself I would only bring you back here for one reason." Stanley let out a breath. He let go of LeFou's hands and got down on one knee.

LeFou's inner dialogue was completely incoherent and nonsensical, as was to be expected. Per usual, LeFou was a bundle of nerves while Stanley was the picture of perfect calm. He removed a small wooden box from his pocket, and opened it. A steel band rested on a small pillow within it. "Will you marry me, LeFou?"

"Of course, yes." LeFou had used every ounce of his self restraint to stop himself from interrupting halfway through the question. So when the ring was finally on his left, scarred hand he could not help himself from shouting with delight, throwing his arms around Stanley.


	9. Chapter 9

_Epilogue_

"You better not have forgotten your books again." LeFou said down the hall.

"I packed them, look." Pierre said, running down the hall to the living room where LeFou was waiting. He showed his knapsack. "See?"

"Well then you're ready, so let's go." LeFou said impatiently.

"No, I have to feet Juniper first." Pierre insisted, dropping his bag on the floor and running back to his room. LeFou shook his head. Pierre had managed to find a baby raccoon and was babying it day and night. LeFou had wanted to keep it out of the house, but Stanley had insisted that since it was a baby it would be harmless. For now. They finally settled on letting it stay with them until it was grown, and then seeing how terrifying or not it was at adulthood.

Stanley came out from their room further down the hall, glancing in Pierre's room briefly and smiling to himself. He had a bit of a soft spot for Juniper the raccoon. "Heading out?" He asked his husband, who was clearly irritated at Pierre's slowness again. LeFou nodded. Stanley got close to him, saying under his breath, "Cut him some slack. You know what he's been through."

"Oh like verbal abuse leads to being tardy." LeFou said.

Stanley tried not to laugh, "Oh, hush. Be good to him, okay?"

"I'm always good to him, people accuse me of favoritism."

"Yeah right," Stanley smiled, pausing to kiss him. Pierre whined from down the hall, "Dads stop that's so annoying."

They both laughed at this. They loved bothering him with their affection. It was the greatest joy of being parents. "Whatever it takes to get you out of the door." LeFou teased, opening the front door of the house for his adoptive son. Pierre just rolled his eyes and stepped out. "I'll see you later tonight, love." He called out to Stanley before heading out for work.


End file.
